Bubbles the canary lived in Larry’s Pet Shop. There was not a lot to do there. As he was swinging back and forth one day on the wobbly little swing that Larry had put into his cage the week before, he thought. ‘Man, I’m bored. Bored. Bored. BORED! And Larry hasn’t changed my darn newspaper in over a week. I have nothing new to read!’
Larry’s mother, Ethel, had forced him to set up the swing. She had nagged him and threatened to hit him over the head with her seventeen year old red umbrella with the holes in it while squawking, “Just get him a darn swing!! How would you like me to stick YOU in that cage without anything to do?!!”
Larry thought she sounded just like a mad bird and he did not want to be squashed into a canary cage. Who would? And he had no doubts that his mother would at least try to do it.
Muttering ‘Who cares about that dumb piece of feather?’ he had looked through his dusty, messy storeroom and found two old lime green pipe cleaners and an empty, cracked pen tube.
It had taken him a whole evening to make that silly swing. “Waste of time. Stupid bird.” He had said but not loud enough for his mother to hear. No point in ruffling her feathers any more than they normally were.
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